


whispers amongst the leaves

by orphan_account



Series: hewn and reborn amongst the dust [2]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Anger, Debt, Fae & Fairies, Fae Magic, Gen, Ghosts, Life Debt, POV Second Person, Pokemon Battle, Rivalry, lapslock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:07:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21561949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: they whisper and shriek and clamor behind bede.his arrogance infuriates you.
Relationships: Beet | Bede & Yuuri | Gloria
Series: hewn and reborn amongst the dust [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1553158
Comments: 5
Kudos: 48





	whispers amongst the leaves

**Author's Note:**

  * For [steampoweredgirafarig](https://archiveofourown.org/users/steampoweredgirafarig/gifts).



> thank you for suggesting this!! ur idea was so interesting i decided that i just had to write it. i hope you enjoy it.

yamask chirps, soft and sweet, and says,  _ mask, mask, familiar, warm.  _ it picks up the mask and spins it around, before settling it against its tail. you make your own soft noise in response. the pokemon tilts its head, repeats its chirp.  _ familiar. warm.  _ it unhooks the mask from its tail and places it over one of your fingers.

a rush of cool energy shudders over your spine. you let your muscles unwind. the mask doesn’t quite feel real - you trace a finger over the line of the jaw. it feels almost malleable to the touch. yamask croons and picks it up again.

_ safe, safe,  _ says yamask.  _ mask, mask, ours.  _ you’ve noticed that yamask always repeats itself. it’s strange. it’s a quirk of all of the ghost-types you’ve seen.

you pull out the soothe bell from your bag, and hold it out to yamask. the pokémon hums and tilts its head. it takes the bell and chirps. carefully, you fasten it around one of yamask’s arms; it shakes it and makes a noise similar to a laugh.

“i’m glad you like it,” you say.

yamask croons,  _ mine, mine, forever.  _ you do not deny it.

(glimwood tangle is a strange, eerie place. you shiver and let out litwick. it chirps, the flame on its head growing ever brighter. has it called in another debt?)

bede smirks, oddly arrogant, as they challenge you. “duosion!” they call. a flick of their wrist has the pokémon on the field, floating oddly, and making an odd noise. it sounds somewhat like laughter. the pokeball at your waist shivers. a demand.

_ of course,  _ you agree, “frillish!” the water type hums as its fronds unfurl. it’s reaching for you, unconsciously. you pull yourself away and say, “mist, rain dance!”

frillish makes its odd humming sound. the fine ice settles over it, the fronds shuddering and curling outwards. rain pours from the skies. amidst the thudding rain bede calls an order; you don’t hear what they say, but their duosion summons an odd screen in front of itself. light screen, then.

bede whistles, short but low. the sound rings in your ears. it’s odd, strange, stranger than anything else you’ve heard. “psyshock,” they hum. it sounds like the whispers of the morgrem. a whirl of energy digs into frillish. you hiss, sympathetic. the vibrations ring through your ribs.

bede laughs. “of course i would get the first hit,” they declare, “i am simply a superior trainer, after all.” their arrogance infuriates you.

“hex,” you snarl. frillish burbles something incomprehensible, fueled by its anger. it slams the ghostly energy into duosion. the pokémon wavers, but stays upright. the hunk of psychic energy it responds with knocks your frillish out cold.

the rain is still pouring down. no litwick, then; the rain will damage its flame. pawniard it will have to be. “slash,” you call,  _ to pieces, if that is what you desire.  _ it stays silent but cuts through it with practiced ease. you want to laugh at the shock on your opponent’s face.

their gothorita appears in a burst of light, tears spilling over its eyes. pawniard looks all the weaker for it; it cries again, heavier and harsher, smirking as it encases pawniard in a tomb of rocks. you grind your teeth. gothorita swaps out; ponyta neighs and a wisp of fae energy washes over pawniard. its blades cut through the rocks, and it slashes wildly at the ponyta.

it hops neatly over the attack, horn grazing over one of the blades.  _ anger, a taste for blood,  _ hisses pawniard. “swords dance,” you tell it, “keep your cool.” it crosses its blades and relaxes. “slash.” the blades cross over ponyta’s flank; it whinnies and the bursts of fae energy pop over pawniard’s side. they’re both on the verge of fainting.

a second cut marks the ponyta as out.

“relax, sitrus,” you hum. pawniard’s voice sounds like steel. _ heal, hurt,  _ says the pokémon. you laugh as its night slash fells gothorita in a single swoop. the rain continues to pour. bede’s hattrem settles on the floor. its dazzling gleam sends pawniard to its knees. you return it, quietly.

you can’t use litwick. the rain prevents it from being at its full strength; you do not want to risk anything, for the debt you owe it. there are some risks you are unwilling to take. “yamask!” you chirp.

_ ghosts, ghosts,  _ sings yamask,  _ the blood of my father and the hurts of my heart!  _ it waves its arms slightly to the tune of the song. the soothe bell chimes. bede stiffens. their hattrem snarls at the sound of the cool metal. you can’t quite make out what it’s saying.

something changes, in that moment. bede snarls something,  _ DARK PULSE  _ and you freeze. their voice sounds off. twisted and morphed into something else, something other, it makes you shiver. yamask twists out of the way of the move and responds with a soft night shade.

their hattrem releases another pulse of energy. another, another, another. yamask gets hit. of course it does. for each dark pulse it responds with a night shade, arms wavering as they summon the winds to batter hattrem. the soothe bell chimes with each attack.

bede stiffens more with each attack.

eventually their hattrem’s dark pulse knocks yamask out; you carefully retrieve it, say, “i concede.” the rain has not stopped pouring. you cannot risk litwick. you will not.

bede scoffs. “why?” they ask. “you still have your litwick, do you not?”

“the rain would hurt it,” you say. “i do not want to risk my partner’s… spirit.” you have to deliberate over the right word. “it is worth a lot more than my recklessness.”

“so you admit defeat?”

you shrug, “i do. here, take this.” digging into your bag, you pull out a few things - a revive, the appropriate amount of money, and a soothe bell. you carefully press them into their hands. “you’re a good battler!”

bede stiffens as they take their rewards. there is a small, sharp popping sound before they stuff them into their bag. “thank you,” they say quietly, but then they’re gone.

(glimwood tangle is filled to the brim with impidimp and morgrem. your yamask chirps, cold and unfeeling, as it pops out to face the morgrem before you. the soothe bell chimes. morgrem hisses, slaps the bell away from yamask. it makes a sad grieving sound. the morgrem’s skin glows a harsh grey where it had touched the bell.)

**Author's Note:**

> twitter @ goruluvs | i rant about pokemon but i promise im nice <3


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